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MILITARY ORDER OF THE LOYAL LEGION 

OF THE 

UNITED STATES 



[y 



T/; coT)7, 



SONGS 



OF THB 

COMMANDERY OF THE STATE 

OF 

ILLINOIS 




CHICAGO 
1894 



z 



By tnuisftt 



J. PP 



m 



1 1916 



CONTENTS. 



A Life on the Ocean Wave, - - - 10 

America, 7 

American Hymn, 8 

Annie Laurie, . . . . . n 

Army Bean, 14 

A Thousand Years, - - - - 12 

AuLD Lang Syne, 15 

Battle Cry of Freedom, - - - 18 

Battle Hymn of the Republic, - - 16 

Benny Havens, O ! .... 19 

Black Brigade, 22 

Bugle Calls, 24 

Dixie Land, - . - -J .' . . 26 

Duke of York, - «7 •. - - 23 

Glory Hallelujah, - - - - 28 

God Save the Queen, - - - . 29 

Good By, My Lover, Good By, - - 30 

Good Night, Ladies, - . - - 17 

Hail Columbia, 31 

Hear Dem Bells, 32 

Home Again, 33 

Home, Sweet Home, - - - - 34 

In the Louisiana Lowlands, - - - 36 

In the Morning by the Bright Light, 35 

In the Sweet By and By, - - - 38 

I'sE GwiNE Back to Dixie, - - 39 

It's a Way We Have in the Army, - 40 

John Morgan, 25 

Knight's Farewell, - - - - - 41 



Larboard Watch, 42 

Marching Through Georgia, - - - 44 

Marseillaise, 43 

Mary Had a Little Lamb, - - - 46 

Massa's in de Cold, Cold Ground, - 47 

My Native Land, - - - - - 48 

My Old Kentucky Home, - - - 50 

My Trundle Bed, 52 

Nearer, My God, to Thee, - - - 49 

Oft in the Stilly Night, - - - 54 

Old Cabin Home, 56 

Old Black Joe, 55 

Old Folks at Home, . . . . 62 

Old Glory, 58 

Old Noah, 57 

Old Oaken Bucket, 60 

Old Shady, 64 

One Wide River to Cross, - - - 21 

Poor Old Ned, - - - - - 63 

Red, White and Blue, - - - ^8 

Revelry in India, - - - - - 66 

Russian National Hymn, - - - 37 

Speed Away, 69 

Star-Spangled Banner, - - - 70 

Sword of Bunker Hill, - - - - 72 

Taps, 95 

Tenting on the Old Camp Ground, - 74 

The Canteen, 75 

The Fall of Richmond, - - - - 77 

The Flag's Come Back to Tennessee, 81 

The Troopers' Death, - - - - 82 

The Waste of War, . . . . 83 

Tombigbee River, 85 

Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, - - . . 88 

Unfurl the Glorious Banner, - - 89 



Vacant Chair, 86 

Viva L'America, 91 

Yankee Doodle, 92 

Watch on the Rhine, - - - - 87 

When I Put on My Golden Shoes, - 13 

When Johnny Comes Marching Home, 93 
When They Ring the Golden Bells 

for You and Me, - - - - 94 



AMERICA. 

Key of F. Samuel F. Smith. 

My country ! 't is of thee, 
Sweet land of Liberty, 

Of thee I sing : 
Land where my fathers died. 
Land of the Pilgrim's pride. 
From every mountain-side 

Let freedom ring. 

My native country ! thee. 
Land of the noble free, 

Thy name I love : 
I love thy rocks and rills. 
Thy woods and templed hills. 
My heart with rapture thrills. 

Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze. 
And ring through all the trees 

Sweet freedom's song : 
Let mortal tongues awake, 
Let all that breathe partake, 
Let rocks their silence break, 

The sound prolong. 

Our fathers' God, to thee. 
Author of Liberty, 

To thee I sing ; 
Long may our land be bright 
With freedom's holy light ; 
Protect us by thy might. 

Great God, our King ! 



THE AMERICAN HYMN. 

Key of F. M. Keller. 

Speed our republic, O Father on high ! 
Lead us in path-ways of justice and 
right ! 
Rulers as well as the ruled, " one and all," 
Girdle with virtue the armor of might! 
Hail ! three times hail to our country and 
flag! 

Chorus. 

Rulers as well as the ruled, " one and all," 
Girdle with virtue the armor of might! 
Hail, three times hail to our country and 
flag! 

Foremost in battle for freedom to stand, 
We rush to arms when aroused by its 
call, 
Still as of yore, when George Washing- 
ton led. 
Thunders our war-cry : ' ' We conquer 
or fall ! " 
Hail, three times hail to our country and 
flag! 

Chor. — Still as of yore when George 

Washington led, 
Thunders our war-cry: "We conquer 

or fall!" 
Hail, three times hail to our country and 

flag! 



9 



Faithful and honest to friend and to foe — 

Willing to die in humanity's cause — 
Thus we defy all tyrannical pow'r, 

While we contend for our Union and 
laws. 
Hail ! three times hail to our country and 
flag! 

Chor. — Thus we defy all tyrannical pow'r, 
While we contend for Union and laws ! 
Hail! three times hail to our country and 
flag! 

Rise up, proud eagle, rise up to the clouds, 
Spread thy broad wings o'er this fair 
western world ! 
Fling from thy beak our dear banner of 
old- 
Show that it still is for freedom un- 
f url'd ! 
Hail ! three times hail to our country and 
flag! 

Chor. — Fling from thy beak our dear 

banner of old. 
Show that it still is for freedom un- 

furl'd ! 
Hail ! three times hail to our country and 

flag. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditsou Co. 



10 

A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE. 

Key of O. Epes Sargent. 

A life on the ocean wave, 

A home on the rolling deep ; 
Where the scattered waters rave, 

And the winds their revels keep ! 
Like an eagle caged I pine, 

On this dull, unchanging shore : 
O, give me the flashing brine, 

The spray and the tempest's roar ! 

Chorus. 
A life on the ocean wave, 

A home on the rolling deep ; 
Where the scattered waters rave, 

And the winds their revels keep ! 

Once more on the deck I stand 

Of my own swift-gliding craft: 
Set sail ! farewell to the land ; 

The gale follows fair abaft. 
We shoot through the sparkling foam, 

Like an ocean-bird set free, — 
Like the ocean-bird, our home 

We'll find far out on the sea. — Cho. 

The land is no longer in view. 

The clouds have begun to frown, 
But with a stout vessel and crew, 

We'll say, Let the storm come down 
And the song of our hearts shall be, 

While the winds and the waters rave, 
A life on the rolling sea ! 

A home on the ocean wave ! — Cho. 



11 



ANNIE LAURIE. 
Key of C. 

Maxwelton braes are bonnie, 



'5 



Where early fa's the dew ; 
And it's there that Annie Laurie 

Gie'd me her promise true — 
Gie'd me her promise true, 

Which ne'er forgot will be ; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 

I'd lay me doune and dee. 

Her brow is like the snaw-drift ; 

Her throat is like the swan ; 
Her face it is the fairest 

That e'er the sun shone on — 
That e'er the sun shone on — 

And dark blue is her ee ; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 

I'd lay me doune and dee. 

Like dew on the gowan lying 

Is the fa' o' her fairy feet ; 
And like the winds in summer sighing, 

Her voice is low and sweet — 
Her voice is low and sweet — 

And she's a' the world to me ; 
And for bonnie Annie Laurie 

I'd lay me doune and dee. 



12 

A THOUSAND YEARS. 

Key of G. Henry C. Work. 

Lift up your eyes, desponding freemen ! 

Fling to the winds your needless fears ! 
He who unfurled your beauteous banner 

Says it shall wave a thousand years. 

Chorus. 

A thousand years, my own Columbia ! 

'Tis the glad day so long foretold ; 
'Tis the glad morn whose early twilight 

Washington saw in times of old. 

What if the clouds one little moment 
Hide the blue sky where morn appears, 

When the bright sun that tints them 
crimson. 
Rises to shine a thousand years ? 

Cho. — A thousand years, etc. 

Tell the great world these blessed tidings ! 

Yes, and be sure the bondman hears ; 
Tell the oppressed of every nation 

Jubilee lasts a thousand years. 

Cho. — A thousand years, etc. 

Envious foes beyond the ocean ! 

Little we heed your threatening sneers ; 
Little will they, our children's children, 

When you are gone a thousand years. 

Cho. — A thousand years, etc. 



13 



Rebels at home, go hide your faces ! 

Weep for your crimes with bitter tears ! 
You could not bind the blessed daylight, 

Though you should strive a thousand 
years. 

Cho. — A thousand years, etc. 

By permission of the S. Brainard's Sons Co. 



WHEN I PUT ON MY GOLDEN 
SHOES. 

When I put on my golden shoes, 

When I put on my golden shoes. 

When I put on my golden shoes, 

I'll trabble from Heaven and bring ye 

de news. 

Chorus. 

Beautiful Zion, city of love; 
Beautiful Zion, city of love; 
Beautiful Zion, lovely Zion; 
Beautiful Zion, city of love; 

If I get there before you do. 

If I get there before you do, 

If I get there before you do, 

I'll tell 'em that you're coming, too. 

Chorus. 



14 



THE ARMY BEAN. 

There's a spot that the soldiers all love ; 

The mess-tent's the place that we mean; 
And the dish we best like to see there, 

Is the old-fashioned white Army Bean. 

Chorus. 

'Tis the bean that we mean, 

And we'll eat as we ne'er ate before ; 
The Army Bean, nice and clean. 

We'll stick to our beans evermore. 

Now the bean in its primitive state 
Is a plant we have all often met ; 

And, when cooked in the old army style, 
It has charms we can never forget. 

Cho. — 'Tis the bean, etc. 

The German is fond of saeur-kraut, 
The potato is loved by the Mick, 

But the soldiers have long since found out 
That thro' life to our beans we should 
stick. 

Cho — 'Tis the bean, etc. 

Refrain — Beans for breakfast. 
Beans for dinner, 
Beans for supper, 
Beans ! Beans ! ! Beans ! ! ! 



15 



AULD LANG SYNE. 
Key of F. Robert Burns. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot 

And never brought to min' ? 
Should auld acquaintance be forgot. 

And the days of auld lang syne ? 

Chorus. 

For auld lang syne, my dear, 

For auld lang syne. 
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet 

For auld lang syne. 

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, 

And surely I'll be mine ; 
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet 

For auld lang syne. 

Cho. — For auld lang syne, etc. 

We twa hae rin about the braes. 

And pu'd the gowans fine, 
But we've wandered mony a weary foot 

Sin' auld lang lyne. 

Cho. — For auld lang syne, etc. 

We twa hae paidl't i' the burn 

Frae mornin' sun till dine ; 
But seas between us braid hae roared 

Sin' auld lang syne. 

Cho. — For auld lang syne, etc. 

And here's a hand, my trusty friend, 

And gie's a hand o' thine. 
And we'll tak' a right gude-willie waught 

For auld lang syne. 

Cho. — For auld lang syne, etc. 



16 

BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 

Key of C. Mrs. Julia Ward Howe. 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the 

coming of the Lord : 
He is trampling out the vintage where the 

grapes of wrath are stored ; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightnings of 

his terrible swift sword : 
His truth is marching on. 

I have seen him in the watch-fires of a 
hundred circling camps ; 

They have builded him an altar in the 
evening dews and damps ; 

I can read his righteous sentence by the 
dim and flaring lamps : 
His day is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burn- 
ished rows of steel : 

"As ye deal with my contemners, so with 
you my grace shall deal ; 

Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the 
serpent with his heel, 

Since God is marching on." 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that 

shall never call retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before 

his judgment seat ; 
O, be swift, my soul, to answer him! be 

jubilant, my feet ! 

Our God is marching on. 



17 



In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born 
across the sea, 

With a glory in his bosom that transfig- 
ures you and me ; 

As he died to make men holy, let us die 
to make men free, 

While God is marching on. 



GOOD-NIGHT, LADIES. 

Key of F. 

Good-night, ladies! 

Good-night, ladies! 

Good-night, ladies! 

We're going to leave you now. 

Chorus. 

Merrily we roll along, roll along, roll 
along. 

Merrily we roll along. 
O'er the dark blue sea. 

Farewell, ladies! 

Farewell, ladies! 

Farewell, ladies! 

We're going to leave you now. — Cho. 

Sweet dreams, ladies! 

Sweet dreams, ladies! 

Sweet dreams, ladies! 

We're going to leave you now. — Cho. 



18 



THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM. 

Key of A. George F. Root. 

Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, 
we'll rally once again. 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom ; 
We will rally from the hill-side, we'll 
gather frona the plain, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 

Chorus. 
The Union forever! Hurrah! boys, hurrah! 
Down with the traitor, up with the star. 
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally 
once again, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 

We are springing to the call of our 
brothers gone before, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 
And we'll fill the vacant ranks with a 
million freemen more. 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. Cho. 

We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, 
true and brave. 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom ; 
And altho' he may be poor, not a man 
shall be a slave. 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. Cho. 

So we're springing to the call from the 
East and from the West, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. 
And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the 
land we love the best, 
Shouting the battle cry of freedom. Cho. 

By permission of The John Church Co. 



19 



BENNY HAVENS, O ! 

Come, seize your glasses, fellows, 

And stand up in a row. 
For to singing sentimentally 

We're going for to go. 
In the army there's sobriety. 

Promotion's very slow. 
So we'll sigh our reminiscences 

Of Benny Havens, O ! 

Chorus. 

Of Benny Havens, O ! 
Of Benny Havens, O ! 
We'll sigh our reminiscences 
Of Benny Havens, O ! 

While gathered at the festive board. 

Will yet remembered be. 
The Army of the Cumberland 

And of the Tennessee ; 
The broad Potomac with their flood 

Unites in loving flow ; 
A mighty tide of comradeship 

With Benny Havens, O ! 

Cho. — With Benny Havens, O ! etc. 

Pour forth a full libation now 
To Farragut, the brave — 

The idol of the Navy and 
The ruler of the wave ; 



■20 



He's gone aloft, lashed in his shroud, 

Where soon we all must go ; 
He's waiting there to welcome us 

With Benny Havens, O ! 

Cho. — With Benny Havens, O ! etc. 

And here's to General Sherman, 

Our gallant old Tycoon ; 
May his star of fame be ever bright 

As the summer sun at noon. 
May his name float down Time's channel 

Where his Country's name shall go, 
And live among the brightest lights 

Of Benny Havens, O ! 

Cho. — Of Benny Havens, O ! etc. 

Now fill a rousing bumper. 

And drain it with a will ; 
No feeble draught should e'er be quaffed 

To gallant Little Phil ! 
Ring out the joyful chorus. 

That all the world may know 
The loving pride we bear for him — 

And Benny Havens, O ! 

Cho. — And Benny Havens, O ! 

Hush now the boisterous chorus, 

And greet brave Thomas' name ; 
A grander hero ne'er adorned 

The soldier's house of fame ! 
In honor bright, of dauntless might, 

True friend and generous foe ; 
No nobler Roman e'er was sung 

At Benny Havens, O ! 
Cho. — At Benny Havens, O ! etc. 



21 



Here's to our wives and sweethearts — 

God bless you, dear old girls ! 
Your children are our jewels, 

Richer than gems or pearls. 
Your dear arms were around us, 

'Twas hard for us to go. 
Come ! kiss us now for auld lang syne 

And Benny Havens, O ! 

Cho. — And Benny Havens, O ! etc. 



ONE WIDE RIVER TO CROSS. 

Key of G. 

We'll float together, we'll float together. 
There's one wide river to cross. 

Chorus. 

One wide river, there's one wide river 
to cross. 

Three of a kind they beat two pair. 
There's one wide river to cross. — Cho. 

We'll chase the Devil around a stump. 
There's one wide river to cross. — Cho. 

Fluke-ma-gilda! Fluke-ma-gilda! 
There's one wide river to cross — Cho. 



90 



THE BLACK BRIGADE. 

Dar's someting wrong a-brewin', 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
Dar's someting wrong a-brewin', 

Heigho ! Heigho ! 
We're on de brink ob ruin, 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
Aha ! aha ! de boys from Linkum Land ! 

Chorus. 
Den harness up de mule, 
Be careful how ye whip ; 
An' mind your eye — 
Sam Johnson am de Jigadier Brindle, 
We're de Black Brigade. 
Why don't you let her rip ? 
Mind your eye, Sam Johnson am de man. 

We am de snolly-gosters, 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
We am de snolly-gosters, 

Heigho ! We go ! 
An' lubs Jim ribber oysters, 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
Aha ! aha ! de boys from Linkum Land ! 

Cho. — Den harness up de mule, etc. 

We'se gwine to fight de South, O ! 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
We'se gwine to fight de South, O ! 

Heigho ! Heigho ! 
All by de word ob mouth, O ! 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
Aha ! aha ! de boys from Linkum Land ! 

Cho. — Den harness up de mule, etc. 



23 



To fight for death an' glory, 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
To fight for death an' glory, 

Heigho ! Heigho ! 
Am quite anudder story, 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
Aha I aha ! de boys from Linkum Land ! 

Cho. — Den harness up de mule, etc. 

I'll take my boat an' paddle, 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
I'll take my boat an' paddle, 

Heigho ! Heigho ! 
For Freedom we'll skedaddle ! 

Gwine to jine de Union ! 
Aha ! aha ! de boys from Linkum Land 

Cho. — Den harness up de mule, etc. 



DUKE OF YORK. 

There was a Duke of York, 

He had a thousand men ; 

He marched them up the hill, 

And he marched them down again. 

And when you're up, you're up, 

And when you're down, you're down; 

And when you're half-way up the hill 

You're neither up nor down. 



24 

BUGLE CALLS. 

Key of F. 

INFANTRY REVEILLE. 

I can't wake 'em up, I can't wake 'em up, 

I can't wake 'em up in the morning ; 

I can't wake 'em up, I can't wake 'em up, 

I can't wake 'em up at all ! 
The Corporal's worse than the Private, 
The Sergeant's worse than the Corporal, 
The Lieutenant's worse than the Sergeant, 

But the Captain's worst of all. 
Oh ! I can't wake 'em up, I can't wake 'em 

up, 
I can't wake 'em up in the morning ; 

I can't wake 'em up, I can't wake 'em up, 
I can't wake 'em up at all ! 

SICK CALL. 

Dr. Jones says : Dr. Jones says :. 
Come and get your quinine, quinine, 

quinine. 
Come and get your quinine. 

Q_U— I— N— I— N— E ! ! ! 

CALVARY STABLE CALL. 

All who are able, come go to the stable. 
And give your horses some fodder and 

corn ; 
For if you don't do it, the Sergeant will 

know it, 
And you will catch h — 1, as sure as you're 

born. 



25 



THE GENERAL. 



Don't you hear the General say, 
Strike your tents, and march away ? 
Don't you hear the General blow ? 
Strike those tents, and off we go. 
Strike tents ! strike tents ! 
Pack 'em up, pack 'em up, pack 'em up, 
Strike tents ! strike tents ! 
Pack 'em up quick, pack 'em up slick ; 
Strike tents ! 



JOHN MORGAN. 

John Morgan's at your stable door — 
Where's your mule ? oh ! where's your 
mule ? 

John Morgan's at your stable door — 
Where's your mule ? oh ! where's your 
mule ? 

You'll never see that mule any more. 

He'll ride him till his back is sore. 

And leave him at some stranger's door — 
There's your mule ! Oh ! there's your 

mule ! 
They've stole that mule of mine away, 
And marked his back with C. S. A. 
He'll come again some other day, 

There's your mule ! oh, there's your mule. 



26 

DIXIE LAND. 

Key of C. Dan. E. Emmett. 

I wish I was in de land ob cotton, 
Old times dar am not forgotten, 

Look away ! Look away ! Look 
away ! Dixie Land. 
In Dixie Land wliar I was born in, 
Early on one frosty mornin'. 

Look away ! Look away I Look 
away ! Dixie Land. 

Chorus. 

Den I wish I was in Dixie, 
Hooray ! Hooray ! 

In Dixie Land, I'll took my stand, 

To lib and die in Dixie, 

Away, away, away down south in Dixie, 
Away, away, away down south in Dixie, 

Old Missus marry " Will-de-weaber," 
Willum was a gay deceaber ; 

Look away ! etc. 
But, when he put his arm around 'er. 
He smiled as fierce as a forty pounder. 

Look away ! etc. Chorus, 

His face was sharp as a butcher's cleaber 
But dat did not seem to greab 'er ; 

Look away ! etc. 
Old Missus acted de foolish part. 
And died for a man dat broke her heart, 

Look away ! etc. Chorus. 



27 



Now here's a health to the next old Missus, 
An' all de gals dat want to kiss us. 

Look away ! etc. 
But if you want to drive 'way sorrow, 
Come and hear dis song to-morrow. 

Look away ! etc. Chorus. 

Dar's buckwheat cakes an' Ingen' batter, 
Makes you fat or a little fatter. 

Look away ! etc. 
Den hoe it down an scratch your grabble, 
To Dixie's land I'm bound to trabble. 

Look away ! etc. Chorus. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



28 

GLORY HALLELUJAH ! 

Key of C. "WinthropJ' 

John Brown's body lies a-mould'ring in 

the grave, 
John Brown's body lies a-mould'ring in 

the grave, 
John Brown's body lies a-mould'ring in 

the grave, 
His soul is marching on. 

Chorus. 

Glory ! glory hallelujah ! 
Glory ! glory hallelujah ! 
Glory ! glory hallelujah ! 
His soul is marching on. 

He's gone to be a soldier in the army of 

the Lord, 
He's gone to be a soldier in the army, of 

the Lord, 
He's gone to be a soldier in the army of 

the Lord, 
His soul is marching on. Oho. 

John Brown's knapsack is strapped upon 
his back. 
His soul is marching on. Cho. 

His pet lambs will meet him on the way, 
And they'll go marching on. C7w. 

They will hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple 

tree. 
As they go marching on. C/io. 



29 



Now, three rousing cheers for the Union! 
As we go marching on. 

Hip, hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! 



GOD SAVE THE QUEEN. 
Key of F. 

God save our gracious Queen, 
Long live our noble Queen, 

God save the Queen, 
Send her victorious, 
Happy and glorious. 
Long to reign over us, 

God save the Queen. 

O Lord, our God, arise ! 
Scatter our enemies, 

And make them fall ! 
Confound their politics. 
Frustrate their knavish tricks. 
On thee our hopes we fix, 

God save us all. 

Thy choicest gifts in store, 
On her be pleased to pour. 

Long may she reign ! 
May she defend our laws, 
And ever give us cause, 
To sing with loud applause, 

God save the Queen. 



30 



GOOD BY, MY LOVER GOOD BY. 

T. H. Allen 

I saw the steamer come round the bend, 
Good by, my lover, good by ; 

She's loaded down with boys and men. 
Good by, my lover, good by. 

Cho.—Bj, baby, by. 
By, baby, by. 
By, baby, by, 
Good by, my lover, good by. 

The river is up, the channel is deep, 
Good by, my lover, good by ; 

Let the splash of your oars the music keep, 
Good by, my lover, good by. 

Cho. — By, baby, etc. 

I'll sing this song, I'll sing no more, 
Good by, my lover, good by ; 

I'm off to-day for a foreign shore. 
Good by, my lover, good by. 

Cho. — By, baby, etc. 

Yes, I'll steer my bark to the evergreen 
shore. 

Good by, my lover, good by ; 
We'll take one drink, we'll take no more. 

Good by, my lover, good by. 

Oho. — By, baby, etc. 



31 



HAIL, COLUMBIA! 

Key of G. J. Hopkinson. 

Hail, Columbia ! happy land ! 

Hail, ye heroes I Heaven-born band ! 
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause. 
Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause. 

And when the storm of war was gone, 

Enjoyed the peace your valor won. 

Let independence be our boast. 

Ever mindful what it cost ; 

Ever grateful for the prize, 

Let its altar reach the skies. 

Chorus. 

Firm, united let us be, rallying round our 

liberty ; 
As a band of brothers joined, peace and 

safety we shall find. 

Immortal patriots, rise once more ; 
Defend your rights, defend your shore ; 
Let no rude foe, with impious hand. 
Let no rude foe, with impious hand. 
Invade the shrine where sacred lies. 
Of toil and blood, the well-earned prize. 
While offering peace, sincere and just, 
In Heaven we place a manly trust 
That truth and justice will prevail. 
And every scheme of bondage fail. 

Cho. — Firm, united let us be, etc. 



32 



HEAR DEM BELLS. 

McCosh. 

We goes to church in de early morn, 

When de birds am singin' on de trees ; 
Sometimes dese close am werry much worn, 

But we wears dem out at de knees ; 
At night when de moon am a-shinin' bright, 

And de clouds hab passed away, 
Dem bells keep a-ringin' for de Gospel fight 

Dat will last till de judgment day. 

Cho7'us. 

Hear dem bells; don't your hear dem bells? 

Dey's a-ringin' out de glory ob de Lamb; 
Hear dem bells; don't you hear dem bells? 

Dey's a-ringin' out de glory ob de Lamb. 

De church am old and de benches worn, 

De Bible am a-gittin' hard to read. 
But de spirit am dar, as sure as you're born, 

Which is all de comfort we need; 
We sing and shout wid all our might. 

To keep away de cold; 
Dem bells keep a-ringin' out de Gospel light 

Till de story of de Lamb is told. 

Cho. — Hear dem bells, etc. 



33 



HOME AGAIN. 

Key of E flat. M. S. Pike. 

Home again, home again, 

From a foreign shore ; 
And, oh ! it fills my soul with joy, 

To meet my friends once more. 
Here I droj^ped my parting tear, 

To cross the ocean's foam ; 
But now I'm once again with those 

Who kindly greet me home. 

Chorus, 

Home again, home again, 

From a foreign shore ; 
And, oh ! it fills my soul with joy. 

To meet my friends once more. 

Happy hearts, happy hearts, 

With mine have laughed in glee ; 

But, oh ! the friends I love in youth. 
Seem happier to me. 

And if my guide should be the fate 
Which bids me longer roam, 

But death alone can break the tie 

That binds my heart to home. Cho. 

Music sweet, music soft. 

Lingers round the place ; 
And, oh ! I feel the childhood charm. 

That time cannot efface. 
Then give me but my homestead roof, 

I'll ask no palace dome. 
For I can live a happy life 

With those I love at home. Cho. 



34 



HOME, SWEET HOME. 

Key of E flat. John Howard Payne. 

'Mid pleasures and palaces though we 

may roam ! 
Be it ever so humble there's no place like 

home ! 
A charm from the skies seems to hallow 

us there, 
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er 

met'with elsewhere. 

Chorus. 

Home, home, sweet, sweet home ! 
There's no place like home. 

An exile from home, splendor dazzles in 

vain : 
Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage 

again ! 
The birds, singing gaily that came at 

my call ; — 
Give me them — and the peace of mind 

dearer than all ! 

Cho. — Home, home, etc. 



35 



IN THE MORNING BY THE BRIGHT 

LIGHT. 

James Bland. 

My old massa promised me — 
Chil'ren, chil'ren, won't you follow me ? 
That when he died he'd set me free. 
Halle, halle, halle, hallelujah ! 

Chorus, 
In the morning, in the morning, by the 

bright light. 
When Gabriel blows his trumpet in the 

morning. 

I went to de ribber, and I couldn't get 

across, 
Chil'ren, chil'ren, won't you follow me ? 
I jumped on a nigger, and I thought it 

was a hoss. 
Halle, halle, halle, hallelujah ! Cho. 

What kind of shoes do de angels wear ? 
ChiFren, chil'ren, won't you follow me ? 
Don't wear any, for dey walk upon de air. 
Halle, halle, halle, hallelujah ! Cho. 

I was out in the garden, picking peas. 
Chil'ren, chil'ren, won't you follow me? 
I thought I heard a chicken sneeze. 
Halle, halle, halle, hallelujah ! Cho. 

Bullfrog sitting on the railroad track, 
Chil'ren, chil'ren, won't you follow me? 
Picking his teeth with a carpet tack. 
Halle, halle, halle, hallelujah ! Cho. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



36 



IN THE LOUISIANA LOWLANDS. 

Way down in Louisiana, not many years 

ago, 
There lived a colored gemblum — his name 

was Pompey Snow ; 
He played upon de banjo and on de tam- 

borine, 
And for rattling of de bones he was de 

greatest eber seen. 

In the Louisiana lowlands, lowlands, 

lowlands. 
In the Louisiana lowlands, lowlands, 

lowlands, 
In the Louisiana lowlands low. 

One night old Pompey started off to play 

for Caesar Clum, 
But afore he went he fortified with a good, 

stout glass of rum ; 
When on the road he thought he saw a 

darky tall and grim, 
So Pompey laid de banjo down to break 

de darky's shin. Clio. 

Says he, "Old chap, just move along, or 

else I'll spile your face ! " 
But de darky didn't care a straw nor stir 

from out his place ; 
So Pompey lowered his woolly head and 

gave him a blow — cachunk ! 
But for once he made a sad mistake — 'twas 

nothing but a stump. Cho. 



37 



The stump it 2^1'oved a little hard — too 

hard for Pomj^ey's wool, 
For when he struck, the hickory knot 

went through the darky's skull. 
Wid his banjo lying by his side, they 

found poor Pompey dead — 
De fust nigger eber known to die by de 

breaking of his head. Cho. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



RUSSIAN NATIONAL HYMN. 

Key of F. 

God ever glorious! 
Sovereign of nations, 
Waving the banner of Peace o'er our laud; 
Thine is the victory! 
Thine the salvation! 
Strong to deliver, 
Own we Thy hand. 

Still may Thy blessing rest. 
Father most Holy, 
Over each mountain, rock, river and shore; 
Sing Hallelujah! 
Shout in Hosannas! 
God keep our country 
Free evermore! 



38 



IN THE SWEET BY AND BY. 

Key of G. S. Fillmore Beymett. 

There's a land that is fairer than day, 
And by faith we can see it afar, 

For the Father waits over the way. 

To prepare us a dwelling-plac6 there. 

Chorus. 

In the sweet by and by 

We shall meet on that beautiful shore. 
In the sweet by and by 

We shall meet on that beautiful shore. 

We shall sing on that beautiful shore 
The melodious songs of the blest, 

And our spirits shall sorrow no more — 
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest. 

Cho. — In the sweet, etc. 

To our bountiful Father above 

We will offer the tribute of praise, 

For the glorious gift of his love, 

And the blessings that hallow our days. 

Cho. — In the sweet, etc. 

There's a home that is over the way. 
With the silvery gates all ajar ; 

And our Saviour bids welcome that way, 
To the beautiful home over there. 

Cho. — In the sweet, etc. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



39 



I'SE GWINE BACK TO DIXIE. 

I'se gwine back to Dixie, 
No more I'se gwine to wander ; 
My heart's turned back to Dixie, 
I can't stay here no longer. 
I miss de old plantation. 
My home and my relation, 
My heart's turned back to Dixie, 
And I must go. 

Chorus, 

I'se gwine back to Dixie, 
I'se gwine back to Dixie, 
I'se gwine where the orange 

blossoms grow. 
For I hear the children calling, 
I see their sad tears falling, 
My heart's turned back to Dixie, 
And I must go. 

I've hoed in fields of cotton, 
I've worked upon the river ; 
I used to think if I got off 
I'd go back there — no, never ! 
But time has changed the old man. 
His head is bending low. 
His heart's turned back to Dixie, 
And he must go. Cho. 

I'm trav'ling back to Dixie — 

My step is slow a.nd feeble ; 

I pray the Lord to help me 

And lead me from all evil. 

And should my strength forsake. 

Then, kind friends, come and take me, 

My heart's turned back to Dixie, 

And I must go. Cho. 



40 



IT'S A WAY WE HAVE IN THE 
ARMY. 

It's a way we have in the army, 
It's a way we have in the army, 
It's a way we have in the army, 
To drive dull care away, 
To drive dull care away. 
To drive dull care away ; 
It's a way we have in the army. 
It's a way w^e have in the army. 
It's a way we have in the army, 
To drive dull care away. 

For we think it is quite right, sir. 
On our regular Thursday night, sir. 
To get most gloriously tight, sir. 
To drive dull care away, 
To drive dull care aw^ay, 
To drive dull care away ; 
It's a way we have in the army, 
It's a way we have in the army. 
It's a way we have in the army. 
To drive dull care away. 

So say we, all of us ; 
So say we, all of us ; 

So say we all. 
So say we, all of us ; 
So say we, all of us ; 
So say we, all of us ; 

God save the State, 



41 



THE KNIGHT'S FAREWELL. 

Key of E flat. Johanna Kinkle. 

Hark ! trumpets far off sounding ! 
The warrior steeds are bounding ! 
May I once more embrace thee 
With kiss — I'll ne'er forsake thee. 

Chorus. 

Farewell, farewell, my own true love ; 
Farewell, farewell, my own true love ; 

How can I bear to leave thee ? 
One parting kiss I give thee, 
And then, whate'er befalls me, 
I go where honor calls me, 

Cho. — Farewell, farewell, etc. 

Ne'er more may I behold thee. 
Or to this heart enfold thee — 
With spear and pennon glancing, 
I see the foe advancing;;. 

Cho. — Farewell, farewell, etc. 

I think of thee with longing ; 
Think thou when tears are thronging. 
That, with my last faint sighing, 
I'll whisper soft, while dying, 

Cho. — Farewell, farewell, etc. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



42 



LARBOARD WATCH. 

Key of A. Williams. 

At dreary midnight's cheerless hour, 

Deserted e'en by Cynthia's beam, 
When tempests beat and torrents pour, 

And twinkling stars no longer gleam. 
The wearied sailor, spent with toil, 

Clings firmly to the weather shrouds ; 
And still, the lengthened hour to guile. 

Sings, as he views the gathering clouds: 
Larboard watch, ahoy ! 

Chorus. 

But who can speak the joy he feels 
While o'er the foam his vessel reels. 
And as his eyelids slumbering fall, 
He rouses at the welcome call 
Of larboard watch, ahoy ! 

With anxious care he eyes each wave 

That, swelling, threatens to o'erwhelm. 
And, his storm-beaten bark to save. 

Directs with skill the faithful helm. 
With joy he drinks the cheering grog, 

Mid storms that bellow loud and hoarse; 
With joy he heaves the reeling log. 

And marks the leeway and the course : 
Larboard watch, ahoy ! 
Cho. — But who can speak, etc. 



4S 



THE MARSEILLAISE. 

Key of G. Bouget de Lisle. 

Ye sons of Freedom, wake to glory : 
Hark, hark, what myriads bid you rise ; 
Your children, wives, and grandsires 

hoary — 
Behold their tears and hear their cries ! 
Behold their tears and hear their cries ! 
Shall hateful tyrants mischief breeding. 
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band. 
Affright and desolate the land. 
While peace and liberty lie bleeding ? 

To arms, to arms, ye brave ! 

The patriot's sword unsheath ! 

March on ! march on ! 

All hearts resolved on liberty or death. 

O liberty ! can man resign thee. 

Once having felt thy glorious flame ? 

Can dungeons' bolts and bars confine thee, 

Or whips thy noble spirit tame ? 

Or whips thy noble spirit tame ? 

Too long the world has wept, bewailing. 

The blood-stained sword our conquerors 

wield ; 
But Freedom is our sword and shield. 
And all their arts are unavailing ! 

To arms, to arms, etc. 



44 

MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA. 
Key of B flat. Henry C. Work. 

Bring the good old bugle, boys ! we'll 
sing another song — 

Sing it with a spirit that will start the 
world along — 

Sing it as w^e used to sing it, fifty thous- 
and strong, 

While we were marching through Georgia. 

Chorus. 

" Hurrah I hurrah ! we bring the jubilee! 
Hurrah I hurrah ! the flag that makes 

you free ! " 
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to 
the sea, 
While we were marching through Georgia. 

O O o 

How the darkies shouted when they heard 
the joyful sound ! 

How the turkeys gobbled which our com- 
missary found ! 

How the sweet potatoes even started from 
the ground, 

While we were marching through Georgia. 

Cho. — " Hurrah ! hurrah ! " etc. 

Yes, and there were Union men who wept 

with joyful tears 
When they saw the honored flag they had 

not seen for years ; 



45 



Hardly could they be restrained from 

breaking forth in cheers, 
While we were marching through Georgia. 

Cho. — " Hurrah ! hurrah ! " etc. 



«' Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will 
never reach the coast ! " 

So the saucy rebels said, and 'twas a hand- 
some boast — 

Had they not forgot, alas ! to reckon on 
our host. 

While we were marching through Georgia. 

Cho. — ''Hurrah! hurrah!" etc. 

So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom 

and her train, 
Sixty miles in latitude — three hundred to 

the main ; 
Treason fled before us, for resistance was 

in vain. 
While we were marching through Georgia. 

Cho. — " Hurrah ! hurrah ! " etc. 

By permission of The S. Brainard's Sons Co. 



46 

MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB. 

Horatio C. King. 

Mary had a little lamb ; 
'Twas always on the go, 
Cho. — Shouting the battle-cry of freedom! 
So she staked it on the grassy slope 
Along the Shenando', 
Cho. — Shouting the battle-cry of freedom! 

J^ull Chorus. 

Hurrah ! for the Mary ; hurrah! for the 

lamb ; 
Hurrah ! for the sojers, who didn't care 

a (ahem !) 

And we'll rally round the flag, boys; we'll 

rally once again, 
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! 

And frequently she turned it loose. 
Upon the bank to play. Cho. 

The soldiers eyed it from the shore 
In a kleptomaniac way. Cho. 

It swam across the Shenando'; 

Our pickets saw it, too ; Cho. 

And speedily it simmered down 

Into a mutton stew. Cho. 

And Mary never more did see 

Her darling little lamb, Cho. 

For the boys in blue they '* chawed" 
it up. 
And didn't care a . Cho. 



47 



MASSA'S IN DE COLD, COLD 
GROUND. 

Key of G. Stephen C. Foster. 

Round de meadows am a-ringing 

De darkies' mournful song, 
While de mocking bird am singing, 

Happy as de day am long. 
Where de ivy am a-creeping 

O'er de grassy mound, 
Dar old massa am a-sleeping. 

Sleeping in de cold, cold ground. 

Chorus. 

Down in de cornfield 

Hear dat mournful sound ; 
All de darkies am a-weeping, 

Massa's in de cold, cold ground. 

Massa makes de darkies lub him, 

Kase he was so kind ; 
Now dey sadly weep above him. 

Mourning kase he leave dem behind. 
I cannot work before to-morrow, 

Kase de tear-drops flow : 
I try to drive away my sorrow, 

Pickin' on de old banjo. 

Cho. — Down in de cornfield, etc. 



48 

MY NATIVE LAND. 

I sing of thee, my native land, 
In strength and beauty thou dost stand ! 

The people's hope, the freeman's j^ride, 
Thou dost the nations onward guide ; 

I sing the land that gave me birth. 
The fairest land of all the earth ! 

I sing, I sing thy broad domain ; 
Thy valleys rich with golden grain ; 

Thy mighty rivers uncontrolled ; 
Thy lofty hills that treasure hold ; 

I sing thy cities' wealth and power, — 
A noble nation's precious dower ! 

I sing, I sing thy noble past, 
Oh, may its blessings ever last ! 

And may our chiefest striving be 
To keep them for posterity : 

I sing thy trust in man and right. 
In reason's pow'r, and freedom's might ! 

I sing, I sing thy hero band — 
Whose sacrifice redeemed the land ; 

All honor to the virtuous brave. 
Who struck the shackles from the slave ! 

I sing of thy illustrious sons. 
Thy Sumner, Lincoln, Washington. 

I sing, O God, thy mighty hand. 
Which still has kept my native land : 

The hand that made the nation free 
And crowned it with jjosterity ; 

Oh, may its blessings ever rest 
Upon the land I love the best ! 

—Adapted from the German. 



49 

NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE. 

Key of G. Sarah F. Adams. 

Nearer, my God, to thee. 

Nearer to thee ! 
E'en though it be a cross 

That raiseth me; 
Still all my song shall be, — 
Nearer, my God, to thee. 

Nearer to thee ! 

Though like the wanderer. 

Daylight all gone. 
Darkness be over me. 

My rest a stone ; 
Yet in my dreams I'd be 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 

Nearer to thee ! 

There let the way appear 

Steps unto Heaven ; 
All that thou sendest me 

In mercy given; 
Angels to beckon me 
Nearer, my God, to thee, 

Nearer to thee ! 

Or if on joyful wing 

Cleaving the sky. 
Sun, moon, and stars forgot. 

Upward I fly, — 
Still all my song shall be — 
Nearer, my God, to thee. 

Nearer to thee. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



50 



MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME. 

Stephen C. Foster. 

The sun shines bright in our old Ken- 
tucky home ; 
'T is summer, the darkeys are gay ; 
The corn-top's ripe and the meadow's in 
the bloom, 
While the birds make music all the day; 
The young folks roll on the little cabin 
floor. 
All merry, all happy, all bright ; 
By'm-by hard times comes aknocking at 
the door, — 
Then my old Kentucky home, good- 
night ! 

Chorus. 

Weep no more my lady ; O, weep no more 

to-day ! 
We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky 

home. 
For our old Kentucky home far away. 

They hunt no more for the possum and 
the coon, 
On the meadow, the hill and the shore; 
They sing no more by the glimmer of the 
moon. 
On the bench by the old cabin door ; 
The day goes by, like a shadow o'er the 
heart, 
With sorrow where all was delight ; 



51 



The time has come when the darkeys 
have to part, 
Then my old Kentucky home, good 
night ! 

Clio. — Weep no more, etc. 

The head must bow and the back will 
bend. 
Wherever the darkey may go ; 
A few more days, and the trouble all will 
end. 
In the fields where the sugar-cane grow; 
A few more days to tote the weary load, 

No matter, it will never be light ; 
A few more days till we totter on the 
road. 
Then my old Kentucky home, good- 
night ! 

Cho — Weep no more, etc. 

By permission of Wm. A. Pond & Co. 



52 



MY TRUNDLE BED. 

Jiio. C. Bukev^ 

As I rummaged through the attic, 
Listening to the falling rain, 
As it pattered on the shingles. 
And against the window pane, 
Peeping over chests and boxes, 
Which with dust were thickly spread. 
Saw I in the farthest corner 
What was once my trundle bed. 

As I listened, recollections 
That I thought had been forgot. 
Came with all the gush of memory, 
Rushing, thronging to the spot. 
And I wandered back to childhood. 
To those merry days of yore, 
When I knelt beside my mother 
By this bed upon the floor. 

So I drew it from the recess 
Where it had remained so long. 
Hearing all the while the music 
Of my mother's voice in song. 
As she sung in sweetest accents 
What I since have often read: 

<'Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, 
Holy angels guard thy bed." 

Years have passed, and that dear mother 
Long has mouldered 'neath the sod; 
And I trust her sainted spirit 
Revels in the home of God; 



53 



But that scene at summer twilight 
Never has from memory fled, 
And it comes in all its freshness 
When I see my trundle bed. 

Then it was with hands so gently 
Placed upon my infant head, 
That she taught my lips to utter 
Carefully the words she said; 
Never can they be forgotten. 
Deep are they in memory riven: 

" Hallowed be thy name, oh Father, 
Father thou who are in heaven." 

This she taught me, then she told me 
Of its import, great and deep; 
After which I learned to utter 
"Now I lay me down to sleep." 
Then it was with hands uplifted. 
And in accents soft and mild. 
That my mother asked our Father, 
"Father, do thou bless my child." 

By permission of The Oliver Ditsou Co. 



54 



OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT. 

Key of G. Thomas Moore. 

Oft in the stilly night, 
Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Fond Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me : 

The smiles, the tears, 

Of boyhood's years. 
The words of love then spoken; 

The eyes that shone. 

Now dimmed and gone, 
The cheerful hearts, now broken. 

Chorus. 

Thus in the stilly night, 
Ere slumber's chains have bound me, 
Sad Memory brings the light 
Of other days around me. 

When I remember all 
The friends so linked together 
I've seen around me fall. 
Like leaves in wint'ry weather, 

I feel like one 

Who treads alone. 
Some banquet-hall deserted. 

Whose lights are fled. 

Whose garland's dead, 
And all but he departed. 

Cho. — Thus in the stilly night, etc. 



55 



OLD BLACK JOE. 

Gone are the days 

When my heart was young and gay, 
Gone are my friends 

From the cotton fields away, 
Gone from the hearth 

To a better land I know — 
I hear their gentle voices calling 

"Old Black Joe." 

Chorals. 

I'se coming, I'se coming, 

For my head is bending low ; 

I hear those gentle voices calling 
"Old Black Joe." 

Why do I weep 

When my heart should feel no pain ? 
Why do I sigh 

That my friends come not again ? 
Grieving for forms 

Now departed long ago : 
I hear their gentle voices calling 

"Old Black Joe." Cho. 

Where are the hearts 

Once so happy and so free ? 
The children so dear 

That I held upon my knee ? 
Gone to the shore 

Where my soul has longed to go : 
I hear their gentle voices calling 

"Old Black Joe." Cho. 

By permission of Wm . A, Bond and Co. 



56 

OLD CABIN HOME. 

Key of D. 

I am going far away, 

Far away to leave you now, 

To the Mississippi River I am going, 
I will take my old banjo. 
And I'll sing this little song. 

Away down in my Old Cabin Home. 

Chorus. 

Here is my Old Cabin Home, 

Here is my sister and my brother. 

Here lies my wife, the joy of my life. 
And my child in the grave with his 
mother. 

I am going to leave this land, 

With this our darkey band. 
To travel all the wide world over, 

And when I get tired 

I will settle down to rest. 
Away down in my Old Cabin Home. 

— Cho. 

When old age comes on us, 
When my hair is turning gray, 

I will hang up the banjo all alone ; 
I'll sit down by the fire. 
And I'll pass the time away. 

Away down in my Old Cabin Home. 

— Cho. 

'T is there where I roam. 
Away down on the old farm. 
Where all the darkeys am free ; 



57 



O, merrily sound the banjo, 
For cle white folks round de room, 
Away down in my Old Cabin Home. 

— Cho. 



OLD NOAH. 



Bress de Lord, I see old Noah! 

Hal-la-lu, hal-la-lu-yah! 
Bress de Lord, I see old Noah! 

Hal-la-lu- YAH! 

How d'ye know dat dat is Noah? 

Hal-la-lu, Hal-la-lu-yah! 
How d'ye know dat dat is Noah? 

Hal-la-lu- YAH! 

Kase I seed him in his ark. 

Hal-la-lu, Hal-la-lu-yah! 
Bekase I seed him in his ark. 

Hal-la-lu- Y^ AH! 

Bress de Lord, I see old 'Lijah! 

Etc., etc. 
How d'ye know dat dat is 'Lijah? 

Etc., etc. 
Kase I seed him in his chariot. 

Etc., etc. 
Bress de Lord, I'se gwine to glory! 

Etc., etc. 
How d'ye know dat ye's gwine to glory 

Etc., etc. 
Kase I feels it in my bones. 

Etc., etc. 

* Negro Camp-Meeting Song. 



58 



OLD GLORY. 

Key of G. Coates Kinney. 

When hope unfurled thee rainbow-barred, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
Red, white, and blue, and thirteen-starred, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
The Fathers pledged their lives to guard 
Thy sacred folds, tho' battle-scarred, 
And hand thy glory down unmarred, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 

Chorus. 

And hand thy glory down unmarred. 
Old Glory! Glory! Gloria! 

They flung thy blazon to the morn, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 

The foes of liberty to warn, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 

That by that sign a Nation born 

Would greet as peer or meet with scorn 

The Lion and the Unicorn, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 

But when from thee some went to fall 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
The legions moved at Lincoln's call, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
With bayonets, round thee a wall. 
They struck the chains from every thrall, 
And fixed the stars for good and all, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 



59 



By that supreme AmericaD, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
Slain in the hour of Mercy's plan, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
By Grant, and Sherman, Sheridan, 
And all the dead, both chief and man. 
We wave thee still in freedom's van, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 

Flag of the Union, float and fly, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
O'er land and sea in all the sky, 

Gloria! Old Gloria! 
And as thy State-stars multiply. 
Group them together all so nigh 
That they shall blaze one sun on high, 

Gloria! Old Glory! 
Together blaze one sun on high. 

Old Glory! Glory! Gloria! 

By permission of The John Church Co. 



60 

THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 

Key of E. Samuel Woodworth. 

HoAV dear to this heart are the scenes of 
my childhood, 
When fond recollection presents them 
to view ! 



The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled 
wildwood. 
And every loved spot which my infancy 
knew ! 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill 
that stood by it ; 
The bridge, and the rock where the cat- 
aract fell ; 
The cot of my father, the dairy-house 
nigh it ; 
And e'en the rude bucket that hung in 
the well — 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound 
bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket which hung 
in the well. 

That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a 

treasure ; 
For often at noon, when returned from 

the field, 
1 found it the source of an exquisite 

pleasure — 
The purest and sweetest that nature can 

yield. 
How ardent I seized it, with hands that 

were glowing. 



61 



And quick to the white-pebbled bottom 

it fell ! 
Then soon, with the emblem of truth 

over-flowing, 
And dripping with coolne8s, it rose 

from the well — 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound 

bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket arose from 

the well ! 

How sweet from the green, mossy brim 
to receive it. 
As, poised on the curb, it inclined to 
my lips ! 
Not a full, blushing goblet could tempt 
me to leave it. 
The brightest that beauty or revelry 
sips. 
And now, far removed from the loved 
habitation. 
The tear of regret will intrusively swell. 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation. 
And sighs for the bucket that hangs in 
the well — 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound 
bucket. 
The moss-covered bucket, that hangs 
in the well ! 



62 

OLD FOLKS AT HOME. 

Key of D. Stephen C. Foster. 

'Way down upon de Swanee Ribber, 

Far, far away, — 
Dare's wha my heart is turning ebber, — 

Dare's wha de old folks stay. 
All up and down de whole creation. 

Sadly I roam ; 
Still longing for de old plantation, 

And for de old folks at home. 

Chorus. 
All de world am sad and dreary, 

Eb'ry where I roam; 
Oh! darkeys, how my heart grows weary. 

Far from de old folks at home. 

All round de little farm I wandered, 

When I was young ; 
Den many ha23py days I squandered, . 

Many de songs I sung. 
When I was playing wid my brudder, 

Happy was I ; 
Oh ! take me to my kind old mudder! 

Dare let me live and die ! Cho. 

One little hut among de bushes. 

One dat I love, — 
Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, 

No matter where I rove. 
When will I see de bees a-humming, 

All round de comb ? 
When will I hear de banjo tumming, 

Down in my good old home? Cho. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



63 



POOR OLD NED. 

Key of F. 

Once I knew an old darkey, and his name 
was Uncle Ned ; 

And lie died long ago, long ago, 
He had no wool on de top of his head — 

De place where de wool ought to grow. 

Chorus. 

Lay down de shovel and de hoe, hoe, hoe, 

Hang up de iiddle and de bow : 

For dere's no more hard work for poor old 

Ned; 
Kase he's gone where de good darkeys go. 

His fingers were like de cane in de brake. 
And he had no eyes for to see, 

And he had no teeth for to eat de corn 
cake, 
So he had to let de corn cake be. 

Cho. — Lay down de shovel, etc. 

When old Ned died massa feel very bad, 
And his tears ran down like rain, 

For he knew, when Ned was laid in de 
ground 
He'd never see his like again. 

Cho. — Lay down de shovel, etc. 



64 



OLD SHADY. 

Key of C. B. R. Hanhy. 

Yah ! yah ! yah ! come laugh wid me ; 
De white folks say Old Shady am free ; 
I 'spect de year of jubilee 

Am a-coming, am a-coming. 

Hail ! mighty day. 

Chorus. 

Den away! den away! 1 can't stay here no 

longer ; 
Den away! den away! for I am going home. 
Den away! den away! I can't stay here no 

longer, 
Den away! Den away! for I am going home. 

Oh! massa got scared, and so did his lady; 
Dis child break for old Uncle Aby. 
Open de door, for here's Old Shady 

A-coming, a-coming. 

Hail ! mighty day. 

Cho. — Den away! etc. 

Good-by, Massa Jeff. Good-by, Massa 

Stephens. 
'Scuse dis niggah for takin' his leavin's; 
I 'spect by-and-by you'll see Uncle Abra- 
ham 
A-coming, a-coming. 
Hail ! mighty day. 

Cho. — Den away! etc. 



65 



Good-by, hard work widout any pay ; 
I'se going up North, where de white folks 

say 
Dat white wheat bread and a dollar a day 

Am a-coming, am a-coming. 

Hail ! mighty day. 

Cho. — Den away! etc. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



66 



REVELRY IN INDIA. 

Bartholomew Bowling. 

We meet 'neath the gounding rafter, 

And the walls around are bare ; 
As they echo our peals of laughter 

It seems that the dead are there ; 
But stand to your glasses, steady. 

We drink to our comrades' eyes; 
Quaff a cup to the dead already — 

And hurrah for the next that dies! 

Not a sigh for the lot that darkles. 

Not a tear for the friends that sink; 
We'll fall 'midst the wine-cup's sparkles, 

As mute as the wine we drink. 
So stand to your glasses, steady, 

'T is in this that our respite lies ; 
One cup to the dead already — 

Hurrah for the next that dies! 

There's a mist on the glass congealing, 

'T is the hurricane's fiery breath ; 
And thus does the warmth of feeling 

Turn ice in the grasp of death. 
Ho! stand to your glasses steady; 

For a moment the vapor flies; 
A cup to the dead already — 

Hurrah for the next that dies! 

Who dreads to the dust returning? 

Who shrinks from the sable shore 
Where the high and haughty yearning 

Of the soul shall sing no more? 



67 



Ho! stand to your glasses, steady; 

This world is a world of lies; 
A cup to the dead already — 

Hurrah for the next that dies! 

Out oft' from the land that bore us, 

Betrayed by the land we find. 
Where the brightest have gone before us, 

And the dullest remain behind — 
Stand, stand to your glasses, steady! 

'T is all we have left to prize; 
A cup to the dead already — 

And hurrah for the next that dies! 

(These lines are said to have been sung by a company 
of British officers stationed at a frontier post in India 
during a pestilence. It is also said that the author of 
them was the next victim. Alfred Domett has been 
persistently but erroneously credited with their author- 
ship.) 



68 



RED, WHITE AND BLUE. 

Key of O. David T.Shaw. 

Oh, Columbia, the gem of the ocean. 

The home of the brave and the free, 
The shrine of each patriot's devotion, 

A world offers homage to thee ; 
Thy mandates make heroes assemble. 

When liberty's form stands in view ; 
Thy banner makes tyranny tremble. 

When borne by the Red, White and Blue. 

Chorus. 
When borne by the Red, White and Blue, 
When borne by the Red, White and Blue, 
Thy banner makes tyranny tremble, 
When borne by the Red, White and Blue. 

When war waged its wide desolation. 

And threatened our land to deform, 
The ark then of freedom's foundation, 

Columbia rode safe through the storm. 
With the garland of victory o'er her. 

When so boldly she bore her bold crew. 
With her flag floating proudly before her. 

The boast of the Red, White and Blue. 
Cho. — The boast, etc. 

The wine cup, the wine cup bring hither. 

And fill you it up to the brim. 
May the wreath they have won never wither 

Nor the star of their glory grow dim. 
May the services united ne'er sever. 

And hold to their colors so true. 
The Army and Navy forever — 

Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue. 
Cho. — Three cheers, etc. 



69 



SPEED AWAY. 

I. B. Woodbury, 

Speed away, speed away on thine errand 

of light; 
There's a young heart awaiting thy coming 

to-night; 
She will fondle thee close, she will ask for 

the loved 
Who pine upon earth since the day-stars 

have roved; 
She will ask if we miss her, so long is her 

stay; 
Speed away! speed away! speed away! 

And, oh! wilt thou tell her that the old 
chief is lone; 

That he sits all the day by his cheerless 
hearthstone; 

That his tomahawk lies all unnoticed the 
while. 

And his thin lips wreathe ever in one sun- 
less smile; 

That the old chieftain mourns her, and why 
will she stay? 

Speed away! speed away! speed away! 

Go, bird of the silver wing! fetterless now; 
Stoop not thy bright pinions on yon 

mountain's brow, 
But hie thee away o'er rock, river and glen. 
And find our young day-star ere night 

close again. 
Up ! Onward ! Let nothing thy mission 

delay ! 
Speed away! speed away! speed away! 



70 

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER. 

Key of G. Francis Scott Key. 

O say, can you see, by the dawn's early 
light, 
What so proudly we hailed at the twi- 
light's last gleaming? 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars 
through the perilous fight, 
O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so 
gallantly streaming; 
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs 

bursting in air. 
Gave proof through the night that our 
flag was still there. 
O say, does that star-spangled banner 

yet wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home 
of the brave? 

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists 

of the deep. 
Where the foe's haughty host in dread 

silence reposes. 
What is that which the breeze, o'er the 

towering steep. 
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half 

discloses? 
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's 

first beam. 
In full glory reflected, now shines on the 

stream. 
'T is the star-spangled banner! O, long 

may it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home 

of the brave! 



71 



And where is that band who so vauntingly 
swore 
That the havoc of war and the battle's 
confusion 
A home and a country should leave us no 
more? 
Their blood has washed out their foul 
footsteps' pollution. 
No refuge could save the hireling and slave 
From the terror of death and the gloom of 
the grave. 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph 

shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home 
of the brave! 

O, thus be it ever, when freemen shall 
stand 
Between their loved homes and the 
war's desolation; 
Blessed with victory and peace, may the 
heaven-rescued land 
Praise the power that has made and 
preserved us a nation. 
Then conquer we must, for our cause it 

is just, 
And this be our motto — ** In God is our 
trust. " 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph 

shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home 
of the brave ! 



72 

SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. 

Key of A. William Ross Wallace. 

He lay upon liis dying bed, 

His eye was growing dim, 
When with a feeble voice he called 

His weeping son to him : 
"Weep not, my boy," the veteran said, 

"I bow to Heaven's high will; 
But quickly from yon antlers bring 

The sword of Bunker Hill ; 
But quickly from yon antlers bring 

The sword of Bunker Hill." 

The sword was brought: the soldier's eye 

Lit with a sudden flame, 
And as he grasped the ancient blade 

He murmured Warren's name. 
Then said: "My boy, I leave no gold, 

But, what is richer still, 
I leave you, mark me! mark me, nowl 

The sword of Bunker Hill! 
1 leave you, mark me! mark me, now! 

The sword of Bunker Hill! 

"'Twas on that dread, immortal day, 

I dared the Briton's band: 
A captain raised this blade on me; 

I tore it from his hand; 
And while the glorious battle raged 

It lightened Freedom's will! 
For, boy, the God of Freedom blessed 

The sword of Bunker Hill! 
For, boy, the God of Freedom blessed 

The sword of Bunker Hill! 



73 



"Oh, keep the sword!" — his accents broke; 

A smile, and he was dead. 
But his wrinkled hand still grasped the 
blade 

Upon that dying bed. 
The son remains; the sword remains, 

Its glory growing still; 
And twenty millions bless the sire 

And sword of Bunker Hill! 
And twenty millions bless the sire 

And sword of Bunker Hill! 

By permission of The S. Brainard's Sons Co. 



74 



TENTING ON THE OLD CAMP- 
GROUND. 

Key of A. Walter Kitteredge. 

We're tenting to-night on the old camp- 
ground; 

Give us a song to cheer 
Our weary hearts; a song of home 

And friends we love so dear. 

Chorus. 

Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, 
Wishing for the war to cease; 

Many are the hearts looking for the right, 
To see the dawn of peace. 

Tenting to-night! Tenting to-night! 
Tenting on the old camp-ground. 

We've been tenting to-night on the old 
camp-ground, 
Thinking of days gone by: 
Of the loved ones at home who gave us 
the hand, 
And the tear that said "Good-by! " 

Cho, — Many are the hearts, etc. 

We are tired of war on the old camp- 
ground; 
Many are dead and gone. 
Of the brave and true who've left their 
homes; 
Others have been wounded long. 

Cho. — Many are the hearts, etc. 



75 



We've been fighting to-day on the old 
camp-ground; 

Many are lying near; 
Some are dead, and some are dying, 

Many are in tears. 

Chorus. 

Many are the hearts that are weary to-night, 
Wishing for the war to cease; 

Many are the hearts looking for the right 
To see the dawn of peace. 

Dying to-night! Dying to-night! 
Dying on the old camp^ground. 

By permission of The Oliver Ditson Co. 



THE CANTEEN. 

'Miles O'Reilly. 
There are bonds of all sorts in this world 

of ours, 
Fetters of friendship and ties of flowers. 

And true-lovers' knots, I ween; 
The girl and the boy are bound by a kiss. 
But there's never a bond, old friend, like 
this. 
We have drunk from the same canteen. 

It was sometimes water and sometimes milk 
And sometimes apple-jack, fine as silk; 

But whatever the tipple has been, 
We shared it together, in bane or in bliss. 
And I warm to you, friend, when I think 
this. 

We have drunk from the same canteen. 



76 



The rich and the great sit down to dine, 
And they quaff to each other in sparkling 
wine, . 
From glasses of crystal and green; 
But I guess in their golden potations they 

miss 
The warmth of regard we find in this. 
We have drunk from the same canteen. 

We have shared our blankets and tents 

together, 
And have marched and fought, in all kinds 
of weather. 
And hungry and full we have been; 
Had days of battle and days of rest, 
But this memory I cling to and love the best, 
We have drunk from the same canteen. 

For when wounded I lay on the outer sloj^e. 

With my blood flowing fast and but little 

hope 

Upon which my faint spirit could lean; 

Oh! then, I remember, you crawled to my 

side. 
And, bleeding so fast, it seemed both must 
have died. 
We drank from the same canteen. 



71 



THE FALL OF RICHMOND ; 

Miles O'Reilly. 

Bad luck to the man who is sober to-night! 
He's a could-blooded hodhagh, or say- 
cret Secesher, 
Whose heart for the old flag has never 
been right, 
An' who takes in the fame of his coun- 
thry no pleasure. 
Och, murther! will none o' yez hould me, 
me dears! 
Or 'tis out o' me shkin wid delight I'll 
be jumpin'; 
Wid me eyes shwimmin' round in the hap- 
piest tears. 
An' the heart in me breasht like a pis- 
tin-rod thumpin'! 

Musha, glory to God ! for the news you 
have sint, 
Wid your own purty fist, Misther Pres- 
ident Linkin! 
An' may God be around both the bed an' 
the tint 
Where our bully boy, Grant, does his 
atin' an' thinkin'! 
Even Shtanton, to-night, we'll consade he 
was right, 
When he played the ould scratch wid 
our Have-you-his-JcarMss ; 
An' to gallant Phil Sherry we'll dhrink 
wid delight. 
On whose bright plume o' fame, not a 
shpot o' the dark is! 



78 



Let the chapels be opened, and altbars 
illumined, 
An' the mad bells ring out from aich 
turret an' shteeple ; 
Let the chancels wid flowers be adorned 
an' perfumed ; 
While the Sogarths — God bless 'em! 
give thanks for the people! 
For the city is ours, that we sought from 
the shtart, 
An' our boys, through its sthreets, 
"Hail Columbia" are yellin'; 
An' there's Payee in the air, an' there's 
pride in the heart, 
An' our Flag has a fame that no tongue 
can be tellin'! 

To the dioul, wid the shoddy-conthractors, 
an' all 
Them goold speculathors, whose pie is 
now "humble"! 
The cost of beef, praties, an' whishky 
will fall. 
An' what more could we ax — for the 
rints, too, will tumble? 
On the boys who survive, fame an' pin- 
sions we'll press; 
Every orphan the war's med, a home 
we'll decree it; 
An' aich soldier's young sweetheart shall 
have a new dress. 
That will tickle her hayro, returnin', to 
see it! 



79 



O, land o' thrue freedom! O, land of our 
love, 
Wid your ginerous welcome to all who 
but seek it; 
May your stars shine as long as the twink- 
lers above, 
An' your fame be so grand that no mor- 
tial can shpeak it! 
All the winds o' the world, as around us 
they blow. 
No banner so glorious can wake into 
motion; 
An' wid Payee in our own land, you know 
we may go, 
Just to settle some thriflin' accounts, 
o'er the ocean! 

So come, me own Eileen! come Nora, an' 
Kate. 
Come Michael, an' Pat, all your Sunday 
duds carry; 
We'll give thanks in the chapel, an' do it 
in shtate. 
An' we'll pray for the souls o' poor 
Murtagh and Larry; 
Woe 's me! in the black shwamps before 
it they shleep. 
But the good God, to-night — whose 
thrue faith they have cherished — 
His angels will send o'er the red fields 
a-shweep. 
In aich cowld ear to breathe — "Not in 
vain have you perished !" 



80 



So bad luck to the man who is sober 
to-night ! 
He's a could-blooded hodhagh^ or say- 
cret Secesher, 
Whose heart for the Ould Flag has never 
been right, 
An' who takes in the fame of his coun- 
thry no pleasure! 
Och, murther! will none o' yez hould me, 
me dears ! 
For 't is out o' me shkin, I'm afeard I'll 
be jumpin'; 
Wid me eyes shwimmin' round in the 
happiest tears. 
An' the heart in me breasht like a pis- 
tin-rod thumpin'! 



81 



THE FLAG'S COME BACK TO 

TENNESSEE. 

Move my arm-chair, faithful Pompey, 

In the sunlight clear and strong; 
For this world is fading, Pompey, 

Massa won't be with you long; 
And I fain would hear the south wind 

Bring once more the sound to me. 
Of the wavelets softly breaking 

On the shores of Tennessee. 

Mournful though the ripples murmur 

As they still the story tell. 
How no vessels float the banner 

That I loved so long and well. 
I shall listen to their music, 

Dreaming that again I see 
Stars and stripes on sloop and shallop 

Sailing up the Tennessee. 



Thus he watches cloud-bow shadows 
Glide from tree to mountain crest, 

Softly creeping, aye and ever. 
To the river's yielding breast. 

Ha! above the foliage yonder 

Something flutters bold and free 

Massa, Massa, Hallelujah! 
The flag's come back to Tennessee. 

Pompey, hold me on your shoulder. 
Help me stand on foot once more, 

That I may salute the colors 
As they pass my cabin door. 



82 



Never more shall treason trail thee, 
Glorious emblem of the free! 

God and Union be our watchword 
Evermore in Tennessee. 



THE TROOPER'S DEATH. ^ 

Rossiter W. Raymond. 

The weary day is o'er at last; 
We ride so still, we ride so fast. 

We ride where death is lying — 
The morning wind doth quickly pass. 
Landlord, fill up another glass, 

Ere dying! ere dying! 

Now quickly comes the second glass, 
And it shall be to freedom quaffed, 

While freedom's foes are flying — 
The rest, oh I land! our hope and faith! 
We'll drink to thee with latest breath, 

Tho' dying! tho' dying! 

Thou springing grass, that art so green, 
Wilt soon be ruby red, I ween. 

Our blood the hue supplying. 
We drank the first glass, sword in hand, 
To him who for his fatherland 

Lies dying! lies dying! 

My darling! ah! the cup is out. 
The bullets ring, the riders shout. 

No time for wine, nor sighing. 
There! give my love the shivered glass; 
Charge on the foe! no joys surpass 

Such dying! such dying! 

* From the German. 



83 



THE WASTE OF WAR. 

Miles O'Reilly. 
Three years ago, to-day, 

We raised our hands to Heaven, 
And on the rolls of muster 

Our names were thirty-seven; 
There were a thousand stalwart bayonets, 

And the swords were thirty-seven, 
As we took the oath of service 

With our right hands raised to Heaven. 

Oh! 'twas a gallant day, 

In memory still adored. 
That day of our sun-bright nuptials 

With the musket and the sword; 
Shrill rang the fifes, the bugles blared, 

And beneath a cloudless heaven 
Twinkled a thousand bayonets. 

While the swords were thirty-seven. 

Of the thousand stalwart bayonets 

Tw^o hundred march to-day; 
Hundreds lie in the Southwest swamps. 

And hundreds in Virginia clay; 
While other hundreds — less happy — drag 

Their mangled limbs around. 
And envy the deep, calm, blessed sleep 

Of the battle-field's holy ground. 

For the swords — one night, a week ago — 

The remnant — just eleven — 
Gathered around a banqueting-board 

With seats for thirty-seven; 



84 



There were two limped in on crutches, 
And two had each but a hand, 

To pour the wine and raise the cup, 
As we toasted ' 'Our Flag and our Land !" 

And the room seemed filled with whispers 

As we looked at those vacant seats, 
And with choking throats we pushed aside 

The rich but untasted meats; 
Then in silence we brimm'd our glasses, 

As we stood up — just eleven — 
And bowed, as we drank to the loved, but 
the dead. 

Who had made us thirty-seven. 



85 

TOMBIGBEE RIVER. 

On the Tombigbee river, so bright, I was 

born, 
In a hut made ob husks ob de tall yaller 

corn, 
And 'twas dar I fust met wid my Jula so 

true, 
And I rowed her about in my gum-tree 

canoe. 

Chorus. 

Singing: Row away, row! 

O'er de waters so blue; 
Like a feather we'll float 

In my gum-tree canoe. 

All day in de field de soft cotton I hoe; 

I tink ob my Jula, and sing as I go; 

Oh, I catch her a bird wid a wing ob true 
blue. 

And at night sail her 'round in my gum- 
tree canoe. Cho. 

Wid my hands on de banjo, and toe on de 

oar, 
I sing to de sound ob de river's soft roar; 
While de stars dey look down at my Jula 

so true. 
An' dance in her eye, in my gum-tree canoe. 

Cho. 

One night de stream bore us so far away 
Dat we couldn't come back; so we thought 

we'd jis' stay; 
Oh, we spied a tall ship wid a flag ob true 

blue. 
And it took us in tow wid my gum-tree 

canoe. Cho, 



86 

THE VACANT CHAIR. 

Key of A flat. George F. Root. 

We shall meet but we shall miss him; 

There will be one vacant chair ; 
We shall linger to caress him, 

While we breathe our evening prayer. 
When, a year ago, we gathered, 

Joy was in his mild blue eye; 
But a golden chord is severed. 

And our hopes in ruins lie. 

Chorus. 
We shall meet, but we shall miss him; 

There will be one vacant chair; 
We shall linger to caress him, 

While we breathe our evening prayer. 

At our fireside, sad and lonely. 

Often will the bosom swell 
At remembrance of the story, 

How our noble Willie fell; 
How he strove to bear our banner 

Through the thickest of the fight. 
And upheld our country's honor. 

In the strength of manhood's might. 

True, they tell us, wreaths of glory 

Ever more will deck his brow; 
But this soothes the anguish only, 

Sweeping o'er the heart strings now. 
Sleep to-day, O early fallen ! 

In thy green and narrow bed; 
Dirges from the pine and cypress 

Mingle with the tears we shed. 

By permission of The John Church Co. 



87 



THE WATCH ON THE RHINE. 

Key of B flat. Max Schneckenburger. 

A voice resounds like thunder-peal, 
'Mid dashing waves and clang of steel : 
"The Rhine, the Rhine, the German Rhine, 
Who guards to-day my stream divine ? " 

Dear Fatherland! no danger thine; 
Dear Fatherland! no danger thine. 
Firm stand thy sons to watch, to watch 

the Rhine; 
Firm stand thy sons to watch, to watch 

the Rhine. 

They stand, a hundred thousand strong, 
Quick to avenge their country's wrong; 
With filial love their bosoms swell. 
They'll guard the sacred landmark well. 

Dear Fatherland, etc. 

"While flows one drop of human blood. 
Or sword remains to guard thy flood; 
While rifle rests in patriot hand, 
No foe shall tread thy sacred strand ! " 

Dear Fatherland, etc. 

Our oath resounds; the river flows; 
In golden light our banner glows; 
Our hearts will guard thy stream divine: 
The Rhine, the Rhine, the German Rhine! 

Dear Fatherland, etc. 



TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP. 

Key of B flat. George F. Root. 

In the prison cell I sit, 

Thinking, mother dear, of you. 
And our bright and happy home so far 
away, 

And the tears they fill my eyes. 

Spite of all that I can do, 
Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay. 

Chorus. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march- 
ing; 

O cheer up, comrades, they will come. 
And beneath the starry flag 

We shall breathe the air again 
Of freedom in our own beloved home. 

In the battle front we stood 

When the fiercest charge they made. 
And they swept us off a hundred men or 
more. 
But before we reached their lines 
They were driven back dismayed. 
And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and 
o'er. 

Cho. — Tramp, tramp, tramp, etc. 

So within the prison cell 

We are waiting for the day 
That shall come to open wide the iron door. 



89 

And the hollow eye grows bright, 
And the poor heart almost gay. 
As we think of seeing friends and home 
once more. 

Cho. — Tramp, tramp, tramp, etc. 

By permission of The John Church Co. 



UNFURL THE GLORIOUS BANNER. 
Key of E. Edward J. Allen. 

Unfurl the glorious banner, let it sway up- 
on the breeze — 

The emblem of our country's pride on land 
and on the seas. 

The emblem of our liberty borne proudly 
in the wars, 

The hope of every freeman, the gleaming 
stripes and stars; 

The hope of every freeman, the gleaming 
stripes and stars; 

Chorus. 
Then unfurl the glorious banner out 

upon the welcoming air. 
Read the record of the olden time upon 

its radiance there ! 
In the battle it shall lead us, and the 

banner ever be 
A beacon light to glory and a guide to 

victory! 
A beacon light to glory and a guide to 

victory ! 



90 



The glorious band of patriots who gave 

the flag its birth, 
Have writ with steel in history the record 

of their worth; 
From east to west, from sea to sea, from 

pole to tropic sun, 
Will eyes grow bright and hearts throb 

high, at the name of Washington. 

Cho. 

Ah ! proudly should we bear it, and guard 

this flag of ours — 
Borne bravely in its infancy amidst the 

darker hours. 
Only the brave may bear it; a guerdon it 

shall be 
For those who well have won the right to 

boast of liberty. Cho. 

The meteor-flag of seventy-six, long may 

it wave in pride, 
To tell the world how nobly the patriot 

fathers died. 
When from the shadows of their night 

out burst the brilliant sun. 
Is bathed in light the stripes and stars, 

and, lo! the field is won. Cho, 

By permission of Wm. A. Pond and Co, 



91 



VIVA L' AMERICA, HOME OF THE 
FREE. 

Key of B flat. Harrison Millard. 

Noble Republic, happiest of lauds. 
Foremost of nations, Columbia stands. 

Freedom's proud banner floats in the 
skies, 
Where shouts of liberty daily arise, 

Cho. — "United we stand, divided we fall," 
*' Union forever" freedom to all; 

Throughout the world our motto shall be; 
Viva L'America, Home of the free. 

Should ever traitor rise in the land. 
Cursed be his homestead, — withered his 
hand — 
Shame, be his mem'ry — scorn, be his 
lot- 
Exile his heritage, his name a blot! 

Cho. — "United we stand, divided we fall," 
Granting a home and freedom to all; 

Throughout the world our motto shall be; 
Viva L'America, Home of the free. 

To all her heroes — Justice and Fame, 
To all her foes, a traitor's foul name; 

Our "stripes and stars" still proudly 
shall wave. 
Emblem of Liberty, flag of the brave! 

Cho. — "United we stand, divided we fall," 
Gladly we die at our country's call; 

Throughout the world our motto shall be; 
Viva L'America, Home of the free. 



91 



YANKEE DOODLE. 

Key of B flat. Dr. Schackburg, 1755. 

Father and I went down to camp, 
Along with Captain Goodwin, 

And there we saw the men and boys 
As thick as hasty pudding. 

Chorus. 

Yankee Doodle, keep it up, 
Yankee Doodle dandy, 

Mind the music and the step. 
And with the girls be handy. 

And there was Captain Washington, 

Upon a slapping stallion, 
A-giving orders to his men — 

I guess there was a million. Cho. 

And then the feathers on his hat, 
They looked so tarnal finey, 

I wanted peskily to get 

To give to my Jemima. Cho. 

And there they had a swamping gun. 

As big as a log of maple, 
On a deuced little cart — 

A load for father's cattle. Cho. 

And every time they fired it off 

It took a horn of powder; 
It made a noise like father's gun. 

Only a 'nation louder. Cho. 

And there I saw a little keg. 
Its heads were made of leather; 

They knocked upon't with little sticks, 
To call the folks together. Cho. 



93 



WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING 

HOME. 
Key of A. Louis Lambert. 

When Johnny comes marching home again, 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
We'll give him a hearty welcome then, 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
The men will cheer, the boys will shout, 
The ladies, they will all turn out, 

Chorus. 
And we'll all feel gay, 
When Johnny comes marching home. 

The old church bell will peal with joy, 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
To welcome home our darling boy, 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
The village lads and lassies say 
With roses they will strew the way. — Cho. 

Get ready for the jubilee. 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
We'll give the hero three times three. 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
The laurel wreath is ready now 
To place upon his loyal brow. — Cho. 

Let love and friendship on that day. 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 
Their choicest treasures then display. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 
And let each one perform some part 
To fill with joy the warrior's heart. — Cho. 

By permission of The S. Brainard's Sons Co. 



94 



WHEN THEY RING THE GOLDEN 
BELLS FOR YOU AND ME. 

Key of F. Dion De Marbelle. 

There's a land beyond the river, 
That we call the " Sweet forever," 

And we only reach that shore by faith's 
degree ; 
One by one we'll gain the portals, 
There to dwell with the immortals, 

When they ring the golden bells for you 
and me. 

Chorus. 
Don't you hear the bells now ringing? 
Don't you hear the angels singing? 
Tis the glory hallelujah jubilee, 
In that far off sweet forever, 
Just beyond the shining river. 

Where they ring the golden bells for you 
and me. 

We shall know no sin or sorrow. 
In that haven of to-morrow. 

When our bark shall sail beyond the 
silver sea; 
We shall only know the blessings, 
Of our father's sweet caressings, 

When they ring the golden bells for you 
and me. 

When our days shall know their number, 
When in death we sweetly slumber. 
When the King commands the spirit to 
be free ; 



95 



Never more with anguish laden, 
We shall reach that lovely aiden, 

When they ring the golden bells for 
you and me. 



TAPS. 

A soldier mounting guard on a distant 

rampart wall, 
And tired with the duties of the day, 
Is startled by the sound of a clear bugle 

call. 
That rings out on the air and seems to say, 
Put out your lights. Go to bed, go to 

bed, go to bed, go to bed. 
Put out your lights, go to bed, go to bed. 

When from his guard relieved he is sink- 
ing to repose. 

Those bugle notes he faintly still can hear, 

Borne on the air of night they softly fell 
and rose. 

In strains that said so strangely sweet and 
clear. 

Put out your lights, go to sleep, go to 
sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep. 

Put out your lights, go to sleep, go to 
sleep. 




